What Do C3PO and Abuse Have in Common?

I’ve been healing from abuse. I’m starting to see its lessons in practically everything lately, including Star Wars’ characters. I recently re-watched the classic second film of the first trilogy, “The Empire Strikes Back,” and the famous gold android caught my attention.

Specifically, there was a scene on which C3PO walked into an unknown chamber, believing to be amongst the familiar, only to get shot at and, therefore, dismembered. Arms and legs, and even the head, were removed from his torso.

How’s that for a metaphor on the crippling effects of abuse?

Eventually, another famous character, Chewbacca, discovered him, reassembled him as best and as quickly as he could and stuffed the dismembered droid into a backpack that resembled a fishing net, running around with the gold guy on his back as sci-fi adventures ensued.

I related to this fictitious scene in my own life when it came to the confusing, insidious characteristics that so often typify abuse. For many of us caught under its spell, we can be lulled into a comforting, serene, sometimes, uneventful-looking, sense of the familiar. We have found our Mr. or Mrs. Right. We believe we are with a loyal family member who loves us unconditionally. We trust a friend or a business partner who would never betray us.

And, like C3PO, we walk into this soothing, familiar chamber only to- WHAMM-O- get ourselves blown apart.

Sideswiped. Blindsided.

You get what I’m saying.

The thing we never dreamed would happen to us by this person…well, it happened. And it blew our world apart. We’re now hobbled: physically, emotionally, spiritually, financially, legally. We cannot function. We cannot put Humpty-Dumpty back together again.

Lessons in Trust

This C3PO scenario showed me how I needed to learn the trust lesson, within the abusive context. Simply stated: you and I cannot trust “just anyone” we meet. Trust is earned. And some people choose not to earn it in the ways we need. Sometimes, it’s not even personal, although it feels exactly that. It just speaks to being careful with whom we share ourselves, our pain. If we are vulnerable with a person, the wrong, untrustworthy person, at that, we can, like C3PO, get blown apart.

Still, there is not permanent despair. For, if we look around, once the dust has settled, we discover a trustworthy soul who is worthy of us.

It’s not instantaneous. The old phrase, “You gotta kiss a lot of frogs before you find your prince” exists for a reason. People are learning lessons. And some of them hurt; some of them are painful and wrong for us.

Like many women out there, I experienced harmful relationships, both in friendships and in dating, before I fell in love with my wonderful husband. He, in many ways, has been my Chewbacca to my inner C3PO. However, he’s not perfect (don’t worry, I’m far-r-r-r from perfect, myself). Nevertheless, throughout the past twenty-plus years we’ve been married, my husband has had to learn, through trial and error, and yes, through arguments, the depth of pain abuse has wrought in my being. And, likewise, I’ve had to learn lessons, myself. I learned abuse doesn’t just affect the abused, but also the relationships the abused person sets about to form throughout his/her life. Abuse is painful; it doesn’t get healed with an easy fix.

And that leads to the next lesson…

Lessons in Discombobulation (In Need of Patience)

Yes, it’s all messy. The fallout of post-traumatic stress disorder, years, sometimes, even decades after the intense abuse I experienced, resurfaced in disjointed ways, like the dismembered limbs of Star Wars’ golden droid. I wish my issues and triggers could have been as neatly organized in the fishing net backpack Chewbacca used to haul C3PO around in. It wasn’t like that. And, over the years, it’s been a tossup who has been more frustrated with my abuse: my husband or me.

It’s not fair. It’s not fair that my husband deals with this. It’s not fair that I was abused. Yet, life is not fair. We work with what is and what happened.

There are no violent outbursts, no throwing of things. It’s the quieter stuff of doing painful work within a relationship. Most of this recovery from abuse has been the tedious, uneventful and confusing hard work that often feels unrewarded and unsolved.

Furthermore, it’s bewildering to the “outsider,” my husband, who did not come from an abusive background. As loving and compassionate as he is, he still cannot fathom what it’s like to be abused, grow up abused and be an adult in situations that were abusive. He’s an observer, in a few cases, witnessing some of my toxic family encounters for himself.

Abuse, in its many forms, be they subtle and hidden or extreme and blatant, causes cognitive dissonance for the human being. Mainly, because no person should be treated like this. It’s hard to wrap our minds around it; it doesn’t make sense. With my husband and I, the whole thing is frustrating as I attempt to convey the powerless hostage feeling a person absorbs, and he attempts to understand it and, like a lot of men out there, “fix it.”

Fix it. There’s frustration built in to those two tiny words. Again, with abuse, it’s difficult to just “fix it.”

Lessons in Humanity

Suffering is a part of life. No one corners the market on it. No one is exempt from it.

I don’t have it as bad as some people. But my pain is not to be minimized, either. There’s no such thing as being disqualified for not being “abused enough,” no such thing as “it’s only this or that kind of abuse.”

Abuse is more widespread than we realize. It’s not always a black eye or a busted lip. Sometimes, it the psychological, quiet mind games another person subjects us to, creating our response of fear and self-doubt. Sometimes, it’s the neglect of a checked-out caregiver or spouse who refuses to see, hear and tend to us on a humane level. Sometimes, it’s the insulting name calling, in the guise of “just kidding” or “I gotta toughen you up; it’s for your own good.”

Being human means that, sooner or later, we’ll be traumatized, heartbroken and devastated. My husband, in his own way, has been just that with his life experiences. And that means that I, as an abuse survivor, sometimes need to get out of my own pain and recognize his. There is no game of “Who had it worst?” Nor should there be.

My husband, like Chewbacca, has carried me on his back quite often, as I endeavor to heal. I, likewise, do the same with his pain.

Each one of us is C3PO in life: dismembered, head screwed on the wrong way, helpless, vulnerable, dependent on someone to carry us. There’s no shame to that. This is life, not a movie, not fiction. For those of us dealing with crippling trauma, pain and abuse, we need to recognize, see and hear exactly that.

Let that realization inform our healing. Let it facilitate our healing.

And, to paraphrase a line from the film trilogy, let’s be the droids we are looking for.

Droids that are in the restoration process.

Copyright © 2019 by Sheryle Cruse

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The E is Silent

Why did this happen to me?

Why did I get cancer?

What’s really the story behind that “e” at the end of my name?

I have been intrigued by questions, starting with my name’s spelling. It’s “Sheryl,” but with an added “silent e” at the end of it. Because of that letter, I have been called “Shirley” my entire life.

In classrooms. Shirley.

Over the phone. Shirley.

At appointments. Shirley.

Whenever there’s an opportunity for someone to see my name in print. Shirley.

According to my mother, the “e” was added after she made her decision to not name me after the famous child star, Shirley Temple. She chose, instead, to go with her other personal favorite, “Sheryl.”

But Mom also liked Judy Garland. Why wasn’t I named after her, with an “e” tacked onto that name?

Judye.

No, I guess that wouldn’t work. Then I’d be called Ju-die.

People would probably get creeped out by the Grim Reaper kind of death association.

Or, maybe, people would mistakenly call me “Juddy,” thinking it was pronounced like “Buddy.”

(Sigh).

Anyway, again, going back to Mom’s love affair with Shirley Temple. It was all about connection to her, even if that was only achieved by approximate letters spelling my name. So…

S-h-e-r-y-l- “silent e.”

Seven’s my lucky number, huh?

Eh…

Still, why didn’t she just name me “Shirley,” and forgo all of the exacting letters, in the first place? Why did “Sheryl” with a “silent e” win out? I’ll never know for sure.

That one annoying letter. Who knew it’d spurn my future questions?

Why did I have an abused childhood?

Why did I fall prey to disordered eating and body image?

Why did I get Breast cancer?

The short, irritating answer to each question? I don’t know.

I have addressed and I am working through numerous issues, looking at backstories, explanations, unmet needs, all beyond my control. I endeavor to get healthier in body, mind and spirit. I’ve sought deeper wells of my faith, praying. I’ve strained to see purpose. And, I’ve logically accepted time and chance happen to us all.

I’ve covered the human cliché responses.

Still, there’s way too much silence, in response to my questions. At least, there is, in my opinion, anyway.

And, before I launched into a toddler temper tantrum on a grocery store floor, I remembered a statement I heard, years ago…

 “When the student is taking the test, the teacher is silent.”

Really? That’s what this is? Education and character development?

I hear your groans chiming in with mine.

This is only a test?

But it doesn’t feel that simple. After all, we’re talking about an individual’s human life experience. Certainly, that cannot be reduced to a test of character. Isn’t a person’s life worth more than merely that?

Again, I don’t know, because there is silence in the atmosphere. No satisfying explanation that soothes and gives closure.

Nada. Zip. Zero. Zilch.

So, you and I are only left to ourselves, to writhe, to get educated via pain, discomfort and uncertainty?

Yep, it kinda looks that way.

Why, why, why?

Usually, as I’m ranting my why’s, I get a mental picture of a tapestry. On one side, there is this exquisite pattern. On the other, there is a mess of knots and zigzagging thread. Both sides are real; both exist. You cannot have one without the other.

Does it answer every question, struggle and dilemma?

Nope.

It’s a silent tapestry, hanging out with my silent “e.” They’re probably good friends on social media.

 (Stomping my feet) I WANT ANSWERS! I WANT ANSWERS!!!

But instead?

Confusion, angst, anger, and a bunch of other non-peaceful responses are my party guests.

What am I supposed to do with that?

Shaky answer: I don’t know, maybe just be?

It’s beyond the “silent e,” beyond the abuse, beyond cancer, beyond pain. But it’s there, even if I don’t quite know where “there” is just yet.

I am still a seeker. I ask, seek, knock. This is how I go about my life, such as it is.

And I believe there’s something to that.

The writer, Anatole Broyard, in his book on illness, encourages the reader to “find your own style,” especially when it involves a diagnosis.

And, well, we’re all diagnosed with… something.

So, okay, that’s it. I guess I continue to “be,” even if it’s this current messiness. This is my style… with a VERY loud “E” attached to the end of it.

Copyright © 2019 by Sheryle Cruse

Sleeping Like Dracula

Breast cancer upends everything, sleeping included. I’m not talking about the terrifying death thoughts that keep you up all night. That’s a given. I’m talking about the actual sleeping position itself.

 I am a stomach sleeper. Face mushed into the pillow, maybe some drool oozing out of my mouth. But, yeah, a stomach sleeper, nonetheless.

When I was diagnosed with Breast cancer, the biopsy was the first thing that disrupted that sleep position. Yep, drilling into my breast, extracting “suspicious mass” tissue to confirm, yay or nay, if there’s cancer going on- that would change some things. And I had not one, not two, but three of these biopsies when all was said and done.

With each biopsy incident, I recovered with ice packs to the affected areas, ever- aware I better not make a wrong move. There was risk of infection to each drilled spot. I was sore, feeling pulsating sensitivity in both breasts.

So, I became accustomed to sleeping like Dracula in a coffin. I camped out on the couch after each one of these procedures were done.  I chose the couch to avoid flipping all over the place in my queen-size bed. I needed the “barrier” of the couch’s back to keep me immobilized enough, to prevent me from rolling over, unconsciously landing in the stomach sleep position.

Granted, I could have easily rolled over in the other direction, falling onto the floor. I didn’t have the full protective guard rails of an adult-size crib. But, thankfully, that didn’t happen. I was an uncomfortable, sore-chested Dracula lying on her couch-coffin.

 A couple of months after my biopsies, I had my bilateral mastectomy. Now, there were no longer breasts, only bandages, stitches and grenade-looking drains plugged into me like some science fiction creature. Sleeping on my stomach, again, was not an option, especially with those pesky drains. Whenever I moved the wrong way, they pulled at me, stinging me.

Breast surgery recovery meant I had to convalesce for six weeks, with limited mobility. Sleeping, once again, was a factor. I did my best to remedy the situation.

To pillow or not to pillow- that is the question.

Initially, pillows seemed like a no-brainer. Suggestions for a slew of them were made by medical staff and Breast cancer survivors alike. Pillows, pillows and more pillows. Pillows to the rescue.

Easier said than done.

First, the body pillow solution. It was suggested that I sleep with one of the suckers; prop it up against my back, gently creating a, “S” curve to my spine, making me lean ever so slightly to the “unaffected” side. Nice theory. But I had no “unaffected” side concerning my chest. Bilateral mastectomy, everyone. Both sides.

I just couldn’t get the body pillow to work. It was too bulky, always falling off the edge of the couch.

And I tried regular pillows, propping my head and my legs. That just made my neck ache; I felt like I was a fold- up chair. Eventually, during a fitful night’s sleep, they’d land on the floor. I also tried accent pillows. The whole thing was just out of control. They, likewise, all made their way to the floor. At least the floor looked really comfortable. But, for me, discomfort was something I had to resign myself to, no way around it.

Still, tried and true: flat Dracula, on my back, no frills, no pillows, just sore.

Sleeping While Burned?

And then came radiation. Yep, you guessed it, more Dracula in the coffin.

As if biopsies, surgery, stitches, drains, pillow overkill and general discomfort weren’t fun enough, now, let’s burn the skin for extra giggles!

Radiation is self-explanatory. Yes, I voluntarily chose to burn my chest area, again, in the name of eradicating cancer. And I knew sleeping would be affected making this decision.

Burned skin, overly- tight skin, peeling skin- check, check, check. Everyone’s all here. And none of it was conducive to getting a restful night’s sleep, and certainly not on my stomach.

For the majority of my 30-day treatment, things were rather uneventful, just varying degrees of burning. Dracula sleeping, once again. But, oh, probably around day twenty, the tightening started making me feel like my skin was going to split apart. Not a reassuring feeling. Only by applying a wonderful radiation-specific cream to the area did I get relief.

By day twenty-seven, I then started the peeling process. Besides the overall discomfort, now I had another issue: not leaving my peeled skin all over the place.

I know, sexy.

But I was fidgety. So, on the couch, on the floor, on my blankets were pieces of my pretty peeled skin. It reminded me of when I had Chicken Pox at age sixteen for sheer shedding power.

And that complicated the next phase of my radiation adventures: itchiness.

No Scratching Zone!

Burned, tight and peeling skin were not fun enough for yours truly. Oh, no! Let’s have me be at my absolute itchiest at two o’clock in the morning, with a burned chest! Watch the fun!

This was probably the most discomfort I felt doing my Dracula sleeping/Breast cancer recovering. Pain and drains (rhyme much?) were one thing. Not being able to stomach sleep was no fun fest, either.

But itching, itching!

At precisely those burned, peeling spots, especially going into my right arm, there existed such an agony that, of course, in my healing state, I could not alleviate. I could not scratch. My chest was too vulnerable. I wasn’t out of the woods concerning infection and complications. Flashing my care team on a daily basis was evidence of that. The constant skin checking. Was everything Kosher? Or was it, danger, danger?

The radiation-specific cream helped somewhat. But itching is itching. And tentative attempts at rubbing instead of scratching the affected spots did not stop it.

So, there I was, two in the morning, in darkness, on my coffin-couch, feeling irritated, involuntarily nocturnal and tired. I was counting my radiation sessions instead of sheep, hoping there was light at the end of the sleep-deprived tunnel.

Eventually, my thirty days were up. Post-radiation meant its own recovery, just applying lotion to the area, doing skin checks. Gradual healing.

And Dracula sleeping in the coffin, for almost a year.

Now What?

Things are moving on now. Life is changing. Hopefully, I’m continuing to heal. I have finally reached a point where I am able to sleep on my stomach. (Does anyone hear an angel choir, or it that just me?) I was nervous about doing so for the longest time. I constantly worried, “Is it too soon?” “Will I wreck my chest?”

But no. I do now have to sleep with one of those accent pillows wedged just so. But, occasionally, I still sleep on my back. That initially surprised me. I suppose I learned- formed- a newer habit.

It’s been an unlikely head’s up, or rather, chest up.

Breast cancer has showed me that yes, indeed, I can do whatever I set my mind to. I just didn’t know that would include my sleeping Dracula impression.

But you do what you gotta do.

And, “I v-v-ant to get some sleep!”

Copyright © 2019 by Sheryle Cruse

To a Sweet Good Year!

Be Like Water

“Be like water making its way through cracks. Do not be assertive, but adjust to the object, and you shall find a way round or through it. If nothing within you stays rigid, outward things will disclose themselves. Empty your mind. Be formless, shapeless. Like water. You put water into a bottle and it becomes the bottle. You put it in a teapot, it becomes the teapot. Now, water can flow or it can crash. Be water, my friend.”

Bruce Lee

That’s a tall order; be like water.

Still, within the past ten years, I’ve been placing that order… with myself. I’m hardly the sinewy animal, fighting and adapting to each adversary; it’s not quite Bruce Lee.

Rather, it’s more like this. I’m coping. It doesn’t sound as ferocious. But I’m doing my own adaptation of the “be like water” principle. There are three main forms it can take: liquid, solid and gas. I started seeing, however unconsciously, I have been taking on those varying forms within the past ten years.

Liquid:

This is what most of us visualize when we think of water- its liquid form. And it’s powerful.

Water can drown. Water can give and sustain life. Water refreshes. Water ruins. But always, water, in liquid form, is fluid, ever- changing shape, adapting, coursing through its pathway.

As my life has become more complicated, through the caretaking of my mother and my diagnosis, I’ve become more familiar with it, via tears.

Yep, I’m crying a lot these days. And, while that may not seem especially noteworthy, the context of those tears, for me, is. I have cried in public more often now. Cancer and caregiving can do that to a person.

I’ve always been self-conscious about crying in front of people. My early abuse experiences taught me that vulnerability was weakness- and could, therefore, be exploited. So, don’t cry. Have your limbs torn from your body, bleed profusely, lose everything dear to you and be eternally lonely, but whatever you do, do not cry.

Since my diagnosis, I have cried in front of therapists and specialists who were virtual strangers. Often, my tears were a surprise to me, as I convinced myself I could keep it together. But, inevitably, things would bubble up when a certain person asked me questions about my life, even something as mundane as the spelling of my name or my birthdate. Tears. Ever-so quietly and slowly, a tissue box is slid in my direction. I get empathy eyes. And no one pounces on me.

But here’s the caveat to that point: these individuals are safe. One still needs to be wise about who is around them. Not everyone is to be trusted.

Still, realizing that I could cry and the world would not explode on me was helpful. Granted, it’s not the most comfortable feeling to cry in front of others, especially when they’re strangers, but I give myself the permission to have the release valve I need. Tears allow toxic, painful emotions to flow away from us, literally.

After my diagnosis, I finally realized I had to get more honest and accepting of my true feelings, tear-driven ones included; to refuse to do so could be deadly.

So, yes, Bruce Lee, I am like water here.

Solid:

Of course, with all of these tears, and all of this feeling, I still encountered harmful instances of people who were just not “getting it.” Here comes the unsolicited advice and judgment from people who believed they knew more about my body, my thoughts and my life than I did. And, after politely telling them, “no thank you,” regarding their responses, I employed the next form of water, my icy backbone.

Yes, sometimes, I have had to take a rigid stance, especially with boundaries. Some people I’ve come across have made thoroughly upsetting comments. They have told me “it’s too late for me.” Maybe, they thought this was “Scared Straight.” Maybe they thought fear was motivational. Here’s some feedback; it’s not, at least not for me, anyway.

So, I have gotten a primer on being this solid form of H2O. Ice is rigid water and may, at first glance, look like a formidable spine. But never forget, it can fracture easily. Care must be taken with this solid form. This icy incarnation can shatter into shards.

And, depending upon the circumstances, I must act accordingly. I will freeze out harmful people.

Sometimes, in life, I have to be a real icicle.

I follow Bruce Lee’s advice again; I am like water.

Gas:

Piggybacking this sentiment, I have had revelations about the third form water takes: gas (or mist). Sometimes, for all of the feeling, boundary- enforcing and backbone-creating, I am left with only my final option: dissipation. Sometimes, I just have to get gone and completely remove myself from a harmful situation.

I dissipate, when I need to. Mist is stealth. It’s the least visible of all three forms of water. My lack of presence in some people’s lives is quiet. Dying by attrition. Paraphrasing Dr. Maya Angelou’s advice, “I saw these people for who they were- and I believed them.”

Case in point: one particular event, involving my blood relatives. I went a few rounds with them, in which I said “no,” firmly and politely, to their requests that were simply too expensive for me to grant. More to point, I didn’t want to grant these requests. So, I said “no.” Cajoling and retaliation have since ensued, not the least of which was being called a ***** for my stance. Family fun.

And, this was long before I learned the empowered acronym entrepreneur/hairstylist, Tabitha Coffey employs: Brave-Intelligent-Tenacious-Creative-Honest.

I know this acronym was certainly not my blood relatives’ intention. Using the word as an insulting slur, however, was. So, I’d finally seen- and heard- what I was encountering. Abuse isn’t just getting hit; it’s the refusal to respect a person’s “no,” especially, when another party is only wanting a “yes.” My final recourse was to stop all contact. I evaporated from their lives. And, more than likely, these individuals have not noticed. They only notice if they “need” something from me. I am not readily available for that.

So, here I am, again, following Bruce Lee’s advice. I am like water. I am mist.

States of Being:
Concerning water, we’re still quite clueless about this its mysteries. Water holds power in what we do not know (yet). But it exists, nonetheless, being, without apology. Be like water. It offers no explanation; the onus is on us to discover more about its savage beauty, healing and purpose.

Maybe that was what Bruce Lee was trying to say.

Copyright © 2019 by Sheryle Cruse

Friendships: Silver and Gold…Really?

If you were a Girl Scout, perhaps, you remember this friendship song. In my troop, we usually sang it right before we joined hands and wound ourselves into a cinnamon roll hug.

Anyway, this song has been imbedded in my head ever since. As I’m typing, I’m humming it. And, in recent days, it’s prompted a challenge to that friendship ideal...

“Make new friends, but keep the old,

One is silver and the other gold.”

Really? Should we focus on that? Accumulating- hoarding- friends?

Popular culture is all aglow with Marie Kondo and her art of tidying. She encourages each of us to get rid ourselves of whatever doesn’t “spark joy” in our lives, while we roll our socks and t-shirts. An anti-clutter principle is employed in her method: if it no longer fits your current life and you don’t want to carry it into your future, release it.

Therefore, I started thinking about “Kondo-ing” my relationships, a very anti-Girl Scout friendship song thing to do.

I had expelled bags, boxes, papers, clothes and material clutter. I felt better, having done so. However, I was still overwhelmed, distracted and drained. Why? Look at my sock drawer! Look at my closet! Look at the freer, emptier space in my home! Surely, new, fresh air was circulating, right?

Not quite. I heard the song again.

“Make new friends, but keep the old,

One is silver and the other gold.”

Hello, Clutter of my unprofitable relationships. Relationships akin to that fluorescent green crop top I purchased, believing with complete confidence, I’d wear it real life. Or that jaunty hat. I tend to look like I’m doing a bad impression of Diane Keaton in the movie, “Annie Hall.”

Still, it could not be denied. My so-called friendships were taking up space…and mocking me in the process.

So, why do I keep these relationships around? Well, like the stuff of clutter, I found there to be similar excuses, pleading for their right to exist.

1)      “I might need this someday.”

It’s that dress, the one that does not fit. The “go-to,” even though I haven’t gone there in years. But I hang onto it because “it’s always been there.” Familiar. Comforting. A safety hatch.

I had a once-close friend that fit that bill. I thought we were inseparable. We shared eerie similarities, both coming from an “only child” world view. And those suckers have been hard to come by for me.

Anyway, I moved away years ago and we stayed in touch by phone for a while. And then, things trailed off. The calls lessened. Even Facebook messaging screeched to a halt. No “explanation.” After attempts by phone, email and social media, I got the message. The two of us “once-close” friends…weren’t. No explosive argument. Just life moving on. Time to let go.

Most of us women live and die by our relationships. It starts early. How many best girlfriends did you go through by the time you reached the third grade? How many times do we proclaim, “Friends forever?”

“People come into your life for a reason, for a season or for a lifetime.”

I usually roll my eyes whenever that gets quoted. But sometimes, it’s dead-on. I struggled to hang onto a temporary “seasonal” person, trying to make then a “forever” variety. It doesn’t work that way. The incessant attempts to stay connected frustrated, drained and blocked me.

Indeed, for each person you and I cling to, who is not a willing party, we say no to someone who is an enthusiastic candidate.

We need to admit truth. The “we” that represents us plus them has changed. And we cannot change it back.

2)      It’s not that bad; I can still get some use out this.

I had a purse that was kept together by safety pins. But I was convinced I could still use it. Straps would give way in public. I’d scoop the purse up and once home, try to repair it with still more safety pins. The thing was still falling apart.

In one friendship, I was free counseling. Repeatedly, I chose to be on the listening end of the latest tale of woe, a bad divorce and other assorted drama. Yet, whenever I managed to slip in an issue or two of my own, all of a sudden, she “had to go.” Until the next crisis. She had a wicked sense of humor and whenever it wasn’t about the crisis du jour, we could have some great back and forth. But alas, the lion’s share of our discussion was me as a sounding board, her as a patient.

I stayed connected to her for those few fleeting good conversations. I convinced myself, “If I can just get through this hump, it’s all good. Just hang on.”

It was not about devotion. It was about some sick need that gets met from the dysfunction.

And it wasn’t just my friend’s needs. No, I got my need met from the crisis-heavy discussions. I was the comfortable therapist, nonchalantly peering in on someone’s problems. I was safely at a distance. My issues must not have been “that bad,” because I never felt an urgency to plead for them to be heard.

But that became more difficult to maintain after my Breast cancer diagnosis. Now I needed to be heard and the status quo, one-way therapy did not work. After fifteen years, it was time to end things.

3)      It over-promises, yet under-delivers.

“I've learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.”

Maya Angelou

Years ago, I bought some high heels with leopard print all over them. They were fabulous and hobbled me every single time I tried walking in them. I was Bambi struggling on the frozen pond.

But I believed they were a staple; animal print, after all, is a neutral. They’ll never go out of style. I can always count on them.

I had a twenty- year friendship with someone who I thought was a supportive person.

Yet, once again, I placed myself in a situation to chase someone who really wasn’t interested in being caught. I tried to reach her by phone. She was always “busy,” “en route to a conference,” “in a meeting.” When I finally got ahold of her, voice- to- voice, the obligatory “what’s going on with you” question surfaced. And I finally had the chance to tell her about my Breast cancer diagnosis. She was shocked, asking why she never heard about it.

I had posted about my diagnosis on social media. We were also Facebook friends. I was not hiding.

After that voice- to- voice recap, I tried, again, to reach her by phone, to no avail. We kept setting up times to speak. She kept cancelling, again, citing “busy.”

I heard- and felt- something different. I was not a priority relationship in her life.

I get it. Busy.

We’re all busy. Life is busy. But come on, somehow, in life, you and I find the time, make the time for who and what are truly important to us. Once is an event, perhaps. Twice, a coincidence. But if a behavior keeps happening, that is a pattern; that is a habit. Actions do speak louder than words.

Clutter, here in this kind of relationship dynamic is represented by the accumulation of experiences in which we are not treated as an important priority. I believe that too often, “busy” is code for “I’m not interested in you.”

Again, does it keep happening? When you walk away from this person-or this attempt at connecting with this person- how do you feel?

Pay attention to that and declutter, if necessary.

4)      I don’t know. (Is ambivalence the silver or the gold? I can never keep it straight).

Once, upon receiving an online clothes order, the company threw in a gardener’s bag for free. For customer appreciation. The bag was yellow and came with a set of tools, to boot. I hate gardening. But, don’t look a gift-bag in the mouth, right? So, I added it to my closet. And never once used it. It didn’t spark joy. It was just there. Mocking me with its abundance of pockets, just perfect for holding the gardening tools.

Social media gives us the illusion of “friends,” from different eras, from different walks of life and from different locations. But how many are exactly that? Friends? Maybe counted on one hand, maybe even two?

I have accumulated clutter on social media. I’m guilty of allowing this relationship hoard to exist. I’m in the process of culling my list of individuals “following” me. Because, let’s face it, there’s no following going on with some of them. I have gotten rid of many “people of my past:” theatre comrades from my college days that I’ve never met for coffee, a few stray acquaintances from a passing interest like axe throwing (don’t judge, please).

And, yes, unfortunately, some of my supposedly true-blue friendships have also gone by the wayside because, apart from the internet, there is no evidence of the two of us in each other’s lives.

Does this sound like I’m an impossible person to know, let alone, befriend? Perhaps. I’m working on my internal, emotional clutter.

But I think there’s a bigger issue we all share. Some people just need to exit our lives. No yelling, no fighting, no crying jags need to always occur. Sometimes, things just end.

Instead of singing the Girl Scouts’ friendship song, maybe we should start singing “Let It Go” from Disney’s “Frozen” (Yes, I know, it’s an insufferable earwig. Many of you have probably heard a toddler belt in out at high volume in your minivan. Sorry).

Still relationship endings can be okay. When we end a friendship, another will surface in its place, sooner or later. And, in the meantime, we can clean ourselves up a bit. We can address why we’ve gotten comfortable allowing this clutter to exist in the first place.

What need or excuse does this person fill?

What is comfortable about him/her?

What is masochistic about this dynamic?

How are we the sadist in the relationship?

Clutter obscures everything.

It could be possible that the true, meaningful relationships are from people we deemed least likely. Or, maybe they are people we have yet to meet. Regardless, we have a difficult time seeing anything silver or gold in its quality, if distracting quantity is all around us.

So, we need to ask…

Does this person truly “spark joy?” How?

Are they interacting, supportive and healthfully involved in my life?

Do they still fit in my life?

Why is this person still here?

Is this relationship silver? Is this relationship gold?

That is the song we need to sing.

Copyright © 2019 by Sheryle Cruse

Just LOVE This! Be Yourself!

Memories: Ouch!

“Restore unto me the joy of thy salvation; and uphold me with thy free spirit.”

Psalm 51:12

Autumn floods me with childhood memories of locusts inhabiting our farm and caterpillars on twigs, kept in mason jars, just waiting to become monarch butterflies.

And, with that flooding, often comes the tinged bittersweet feelings that accompany a childhood innocence of long ago.

I recently caught a funny post on the internet. It read: “Memories: Ouch!”

They say humor is humor because it is unflinching truth. And that certainly was the case with this post.

With all there is to recover from in life- death, loss, illness, abuse and addiction- perhaps, one of the most painful things is that of memories, being either the good or the bad kind.

It can be argued which one of those is the more painful to remember. “Bad” memories, like abuse, death and loss, are the understandably challenging memories to overcome.

But, perhaps, the more painful are the happy ones, the “good times.” For they represent the faint promise of life having an “all is well,” security blanket, comforting us with love, laughter and security. Therefore, it is usually during times when we perceive our lives to have those things lost or absent when these happiness memories are the rusted knife turning clockwise into souls. We can take on the attitude of Job:

“My spirit is broken,
    my days are cut short,
    the grave awaits me.”

Job 17:1

Trust me, Chapter 17 does not get much cheerier.

Nevertheless, there can be a restored version of our lives, of who we are. Can we challenge our lives to see it?

What are your memories?

What are the painful ones? What are the haunting ones?

What are the ones you do everything you can to suppress or escape from?

As the seasons change, how do you view your memories? How healed are you in conjunction of them?

Right now, this autumn, endeavor to view your memories for what they are: the locusts and transitioning caterpillars.

“And I will restore to you the years that the locust hath eaten, the cankerworm, and the caterpillar, and the palmerworm...”

Joel 2:25

See these memories as flowing to a better end.

Healing can already in motion. Determine what that looks like for you and move closer to it.

Copyright © 2019 by Sheryle Cruse

Your Brain on CPTSD

Decrease Your Circle

Nothing!

The Freezer in the Bedroom

“The Freezer in the Bedroom” discusses our complicated relationship with boundaries.

https://www.elephantjournal.com/2019/09/the-freezer-in-the-bedroom-discusses-our-complicated-relationship-with-boundaries/

Fruit of the Other Spirit

Let’s face it- fruit has been a tricky thing from the beginning.

Certainly, any of us who battle with addiction, compulsion or disorder know the power of its lure.

“...‘the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, thou shalt not eat of it: for in the day that thou eatest thereof thou shalt surely die.’”

Genesis 2:16-17?

It goes downhill from there. Check out Genesis 3:1-24; here are a couple of fun highlights...

 “‘Thorns also and thistles shall it bring forth to thee; and thou shalt eat the herb of the field.’”

Genesis 3:18

“So he drove out the man; and he placed at the east of the garden of Eden Cherubims, and a flaming sword which turned every way, to keep the way of the tree of life.”

Genesis 3:24

But we still cannot escape fruit, especially, “fruit of the spirit.”

 “But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, longsuffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, Meekness, temperance: against such there is no law.”

Galatians 5:22-23

Human beings seem to fail miserably and often at this principle. Instead of practicing Galatians 5:22-23, perhaps, one can propose we come up with our own version instead.

“But the fruit of the OTHER Spirit is hate, despair, unease, impatience, cruelty, evil intent, fear and thoughtless destruction, concerning these there is only law.”

Now we have a problem.

Other Fruit of the Spirit Stuff

I’ve given some thought to this situation, especially concerning recovery issues.

Indeed, our own finite beliefs/pursuits often fly in the face of the original spiritual fruit, distorting and causing harm.

Hosea best states, “My people perish for a lack of knowledge” (Hosea 4:6).

And that’s part of the problem: we don’t know we’re doing this.

And then “suddenly,” this fruit, in the vehicle of our addictions and disordered behaviors, leaves tremendous wreckage.

So, it could be worth our while to examine just what this “other fruit” is, where it comes from and how to apply the “original recipe” of the fruit of the Spirit to it.

Other Fruit of the Spirit: Hate

We’re off to a rough start already, aren’t we?

But we do ourselves a great disservice to avoid this first attribute, as it challenges the start of the “spiritual fruit” list.

Hate often gets pain and dysfunction going like nothing else.

It often comes from a place of being hurt. And there’s no such thing as a human being who lives unscathed by pain.

 “...a wounded spirit who can bear?”

Proverbs 18:14

And so, our frequent response to that suffering can be the outward expression of hate.

If we’ve felt unloved, rejected and abused, we go on the offensive, raging with deep self-loathing, while simultaneously attempting to self-medicate our injuries with addictive substances or behaviors. We act out because we feel hopeless to be loveable or valuable in any real way.

We have unmet need; we ARE unmet need. And it never seems to get sated.

In response to my own self-loathing and disordered issues, I’ve searched the scriptures to locate those things which Elohim actually does hate.

 And here’s newsflash number one: our Creator doesn’t hate a human being.

Rather, there are certain behaviors He detests instead...

“These six things doth the Lord hate: yea, seven are an abomination unto Him: A Proud look, a lying tongue, and hands that shed innocent blood. A heart that deviseth wicked imaginations, feet that be swift in running to mischief, a false witness that speaketh lies, and he that soweth discord among brethren.”

Proverbs 6:16-19

The Most High hates the disruptive, harmful behavior we choose to engage in.

“Hatred stirreth up strifes....”

Proverbs 10:12

But, unfortunately, hate can all too easily become addictive for us addicts.

We pursue it largely because, on some level, we believe it to be the panacea to our pain. We believe the serpents lie, “You shall surely not die.”

And, usually, we completely block out or actively rebel against a significant, humbling truth, even regarding such a “formidable force” as us: the power of Divine love. Our counterfeit fruit is confronted.

 “Hatred stirreth up strifes: but love covereth all sins.”

Proverbs 10:12

Divine Fruit: Love

“...‘Yea, I have loved thee with an everlasting love: therefore with lovingkindness have I drawn thee.’”

Jeremiah 31:3

 This love often comes to challenge our new love, our addiction.

We feel much more comfortable with hate, Hate doesn’t ask us to change; hate asks that we keep hating- and using that in our addiction.

“Charity suffereth long, and is kind; charity envieth not; charity vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up, Doth not behave itself unseemly, seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil; Rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth; Beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things. Charity never faileth: but whether there be prophecies, they shall fail; whether there be tongues, they shall cease; whether there be knowledge, it shall vanish away. For we know in part, and we prophesy in part. But when that which is perfect is come, then that which is in part shall be done away. When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child: but when I became a man, I put away childish things. For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known. And now abideth faith, hope, charity, these three; but the greatest of these is charity.

1 Corinthians 13:4-13

Hate certainly doesn’t ask us to love ourselves.

“Love your neighbor as yourself…”

Leviticus 19:18; Mark 12:31

And there lies a gigantic roadblock: our self-loathing.

This reality, therefore, often produces a sense of despair, being ill-at-ease.

Other Fruit of the Spirit: Despair

“My bowels, my bowels! I am pained at my very heart; my heart maketh a noise in me; I cannot hold my peace, because thou hast heard, O my soul, the sound of the trumpet, the alarm of war.”

Jeremiah 4:19

When we are either ignorant or rejecting of unconditional love, individually, personally, applicable to each of us, this anxious mindset can settle in our spirits.

Again, going back to Genesis and our old familiar serpent, never underestimate the power of doubt...

“Now the serpent was more subtle than any beast of the field which the Lord God had made. And he said unto the woman, ‘Yea, hath God said, ‘Ye shall not eat of every tree of the garden?’”

Genesis 3:1

Uh- oh...

Doubt, a disturbance of the peace, a question mark...

And then, an outright lie, followed by a justifying explanation...

^“And the serpent said unto the woman, ‘Ye shall not surely die. For God doth know that in the day ye eat thereof, then your eyes shall be opened, and ye shall be as gods, knowing good and evil.’”

Genesis 3:4-5

We’re at a crossroads. Which argument do we believe?

Well, we know the Genesis answer to that question, don’t we?

“And when the woman saw that the tree was good for food, and that it was pleasant to the eyes, and a tree to be desired to make one wise, she took of the fruit thereof, and did eat, and gave also unto her husband with her; and he did eat.”

Verse Six

Yeah.

And, after a ridiculous hide and seek game (Genesis 3:7-10), their Creator confronts them both on the choice to disbelieve Him...

^“...‘Who told thee that thou wast naked? Hast thou eaten of the tree, whereof I commanded thee that thou shouldest not eat?’”

Genesis 3:11

What next follows is a cute little blame game (Genesis 3:12-13).

(So much for taking responsibility for one’s actions).

Anyway, what ultimately results is consequence, fully detailed in Genesis 3:14-19.

It’s not uplifting.

What especially drew my attention was verse seventeen...

“‘...in sorrow shalt thou eat of it all the days of thy life.’”

Genesis 3:17

It’s not just about the negative results from breaking the rules; it goes deeper.

Sorrow, emanating from doubt, has tentacles which can wrap around our lives and, in the process, steal our joy and peace. Those may not appear like big things at face value.

But when they are gone, they are mostly certainly missed.

Divine Fruit: Joy

But there is hope for us, even in spite of our doubt and sorrow...

“And ye now therefore have sorrow: but I will see you again, and your heart shall rejoice, and your joy no man taketh from you.”

John 16:22

Joy is tailor-made for us. The question, however, remains: will we accept and apply it to our lives?

“Hitherto have ye asked nothing in my name: ask, and ye shall receive, that your joy may be full.”
John 16:24

Our answer to that question is our fruit. What will it be?

Yet, often times, our fruit answer involves further unsettling anxiety- and it’s not because of Divine will.

“For God is not the author of confusion, but of peace...”

1 Corinthians 14:33

Rather, it’s because we have trouble with the waiting process...

Other Fruit of the Spirit: Impatience

Impatience creates damaging outcomes because we are rash, thoughtless, selfish, fearful and ignorant of our actions. We are in a fleeting, temporary moment, not considering future consequences.

And, because of that state, we often tend to scrap long-term goals in favor of short-term, instantaneous gratification.

“He that hath no rule over his own spirit is like a city that is broken down, and without walls.”

Proverbs 25:28

That is a gigantic component to addiction’s payoff: “getting our fix.”

Yet, that fix, no matter how good in feels in the here and now, ultimately, has its negative consequences...

“...like a city that is broken down, and without walls.”

Proverbs 25:28

Okay, let’s just get right to the fruity point of things: patience is not easy.

It requires we say no to ourselves, even, in some cases, our perceived “needs.”

Patience involves suffering, discomfort and pain.

Divine Fruit: Patience

Scripture, however, does convey the merit in practicing the principle...

“In your patience possess ye your souls.”

Luke 21:19

 “For whatsoever things were written aforetime were written for our learning, that we through patience and comfort of the scriptures might have hope.”

Romans 15:4

So, “patience and comfort of the scriptures” produces hope? Reward enough for our human condition?

C’mon, you and I know it’s just not that simple...or gratifying.

Often, we cannot outlast the suffering in the waiting; we cave in the midst of delayed gratification. Our addiction fills our mind and eye space until it’s all we can see, feel, think and prioritize.

And this can, sometimes lead us to yet another unsavory “other fruit...”

Other Fruit of the Spirit: Cruelty

In our frustration, experiencing life’s imperfection, we can often become ruthless. All that matters is our addiction. All that must exist and remain is our addiction.

“Their feet run to evil, and they are swift to shed innocent blood; their thoughts are thoughts of iniquity; desolation and destruction are in their highways.”

Isaiah 59:7

 “Thou shalt not kill.”

Deuteronomy 5:17

And here’s where a slippery slope lies; we will do anything and everything for it. We will lie, steal, cheat, kill, hurt and destroy. That is our response when anything or anyone dares to challenge our pursuit, practice or possession of our addiction.

This is where loved ones are sacrificed on its altar. Marriages, families, careers, health, dignity, finances and free criminal histories are just a few offerings given.

Divine Fruit: Gentleness

Yet Elohim doesn’t demand this violent expression in His love; there is gentleness instead.

“Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.”

Matthew 11:29-30

However, many of us have not had gentle experiences. Abuse, neglect and dysfunction have, perhaps, made us grow accustomed to chaos, danger and cruelty.

Therefore, in our frustration and pain, we can find ourselves resorting to abrupt, reactionary responses which attempt to meet our needs by force.

But love’s gentleness does not force its agenda; rather, it allows for Divine Creation’s to respond accordingly...

 “Love is patient and kind; love does not envy or boast; it is not arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful.”

1 Corinthians 13:4-5

There is gentleness at the cornerstone of love. That is the standard we are to execute. And yes, sadly, we fall woefully short in doing so.

“For all have sinned, and come short of the glory of God;”

Romans 3:23

Other Fruit of the Spirit: Evil intent

Furthermore, if we refuse love’s gentleness from the Most High, if we insist on following cruelty’s path, it’s not long before its twin fruit, evil intent, joins the madness.

“‘And let none of you imagine evil in your hearts against his neighbor; and love no false oath: for all these are things that I hate,’ saith the LORD.”

Zechariah 8:17

Lines blur of where cruelty ends and this evil intent fruit begins. Often, for the entrenched addict, the only line of thinking is Machiavellian: “the ends justifies the means.”

So, bring on whatever means to achieve the all-important fix’s end.

And before we underestimate the consequences of our actions, let’s just take a look at how the Most High feels about our insatiable attitude...

 “The Lord saw that the wickedness of man was great in the earth, and that every intention of the thoughts of his heart was only evil continually. And the Lord was sorry that he had made man on the earth, and it grieved him to his heart. So the Lord said, “I will blot out man whom I have created from the face of the land, man and animals and creeping things and birds of the heavens, for I am sorry that I have made them.”

Genesis 6:5-7

Yeah, but that was a long time ago. We’re past that point, right? Right?

Even though these sentiments existed in the ancient book of Genesis, it still doesn’t change how Elohim is grieved by our treachery. And ignorance only goes so far in excusing us. The damage still happens, whether or not we realize it.

Yet, there is still hope, should we choose to embrace it.

“I had fainted, unless I had believed to see the goodness of the LORD in the land of the living.”

Psalms 27:13

Divine Fruit: Goodness

Psalms 23:6 is the great equalizer, displaying the pervasiveness of this fruit of the Spirit.

“Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the LORD forever.”

 It’s not dependent upon us. If Divine goodness hinged upon our merit, it’d be hopeless for everyone concerned.

After all...

“As it is written, ‘There is none righteous, no, not one. There is none that understandeth, there is none that seeketh after God. They are all gone out of the way, they are together become unprofitable; there is none that doeth good, no, not one.’”

Romans 3:10-12

“...They are corrupt, their deeds are vile; there is no one who does good.”

Psalm 14:1

So...yeah... not optimistic here.

Yet, The Most High is good, even while simultaneously being realistic about our human nature.

Explanation? Divine Goodness trumps what should only be condemned.

 “Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, and cometh down from the Father of lights, with whom is no variableness, neither shadow of turning.”

James 1:17

Exhibit A: the Savior...

“For God sent not his Son into the world to condemn the world; but that the world through him might be saved.”

John 3:17

Ideally, this should provide irrefutable evidence to be appreciative, loving human beings who respond correctly.

But, come on. We know the reality.

“The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked: who can know it?”

Jeremiah 17:9

Part of the human experience involves the heart, prone to wickedness. And often, it’s driven by fear.

Other Fruit of the Spirit: Fear

For the addict especially, fear is primal.

“Men's hearts failing them for fear, and for looking after those things which are coming on the earth: for the powers of heaven shall be shaken.”

Luke 21:26

We’re afraid of not being able to obliterate our pain.

We’re afraid of not being able to escape.

We’re afraid of discomfort.

We’re afraid of reality.

We’re afraid of seeing who we really are and what we have really done with- and to- ourselves.

“The fear of man bringeth a snare: but whoso putteth his trust in the LORD shall be safe.”

Proverbs 29:25

And so, eventually, our fear creates a snare and a self-fulfilling prophecy.

Like Job once stated: “What I fear has come upon me” (Job 3:25).

Adding more complication, we fear letting go of our idol, the one thing we can count on in our lives to soothe, embolden and keep us functioning.

Where would we be if we dare let that thing go?

Our fear of the answer- while refusing to never face the answer- runs the show.

And here is where we are confronted with the exact nature of fear: our very real enemy.

“Be sober, be vigilant; because your adversary the devil, as a roaring lion, walketh about, seeking whom he may devour.”

1 Peter 5:8

 “The thief cometh not, but for to steal, and to kill, and to destroy...”
John 10:10

And, with this enemy, two things are glaringly missing: love and faith...

“There is no fear in love; but perfect love casteth out fear: because fear hath torment. He that feareth is not made perfect in love. We love him, because he first loved us.”

1 John 4:18-19

 “For God hath not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind.”

2 Timothy 1:7

Divine Fruit: Faith

We can easily answer the question, what is the opposite of hate? Love.

But what about the question, what is the opposite of fear? Its answer is Faith.

And we do possess faith.

"For by the grace given me I say to every one of you: Do not think of yourself more highly than you ought, but rather think of yourself with sober judgment, in accordance with the measure of faith God has given you."

Romans 12:3

 “Above all, taking the shield of faith, wherewith ye shall be able to quench all the fiery darts of the wicked.”

Ephesians 6:16

Faith is not passive. First, it emanates from Elohim’s love.

“We love him, because he first loved us.”

1 John 4:19

Next, this faith-filled love is empowering.

“... I am come that they might have life, and that they might have it more abundantly.”
John 10:10

But, are we taught that? Are we taught fear or positive faith?

What we learn and how we’re taught can often translate into our responses to life issues, including faith and recovery matters. Ignorance, entrenched beliefs and harmful traditions all play a role in our own response, displayed in the last fruit.

Fruit of the Other Spirit: Reckless Destruction

 “For what I am doing, I do not understand. For what I will to do, that I do not practice: but what I hate, that I do.”

Romans 7:15

When we run low on things like love, positive faith, patience and goodness, recklessness often occurs.

“What’s the point?”

We ask ourselves the question, convinced we no longer care about our lives. We may even run full-throttle with our death wishes. We start to take greater chances with our families, our careers and anything else which many seem “precious” to us.

“Where there is no vision, the people perish: but he that keepeth the law, happy is he.”

Proverbs 29:18

Yet, our spirits don’t say “die” easily; the will to live is strong.

And so, we face a dilemma: confusion in our reckless state, emanating from the opposing side...

“The thief cometh not, but for to steal, and to kill, and to destroy...”
John 10:10

And before we run amuck with the reliable excuse of “the devil made me do it,” we do need to acknowledge that our addictions are a spiritual battle, one which often has us choose our ignorance and faulty belief systems over higher, healthier choices. We don’t have a clue just how damaging this can be.

After all, why, in the middle of being nailed to a cross, humiliated and tortured, did our Savior utter this plea?

 “...‘Father, forgive them; for they know not what they do.’”

Luke 23:34

We don’t know what we’re doing.

Therefore, in that frightening uncertainty, we act out. There’s pain and fear in our reckless actions; there’s desperation, hatred, resentment and vengeance also.

It’s an attempt to gain some kind of rescue. Suicide, for instance, is often couched in the phrase, “a cry for help.”

 “...‘Lord, help me.’”

Matthew 15:25

But, we often focus on the “things” to make and keep us safe. And sometimes, that even includes destruction and chaos. We may view it as “power” instead of something harmful; we believe we’re finally taking control.

However, often, nothing could be further from the truth.

Therefore, we are in dire need of the next fruit of Elohim’s Spirit...

“...Meekness, temperance...”

Galatians 5:23

Divine Fruit: Self-control

This last fruit speaks to both our willingness and our capability. Whether or not we feel it, we do have the capacity for self-control. I’m not talking about going against the Twelve Steps here. Yes, we are powerless, in our addiction, in and of ourselves. But, with The Most High, “all things are possible” (Matthew 19:26). This, therefore, refers to the attitude which cooperates with the decision to “make another choice,” one which is spirit led.

“Let all things be done decently and in order.”

1 Corinthians 14:40

I know. It’s easier said than practiced.

Nevertheless, we are called to implement the principle. Each of us is given lessons in controlling our tempers, our appetites and our feelings.

And this is at the epicenter of addiction. To challenge the notion that yes, we can choose something else besides addiction is a scary thought.

“You don’t know what kind of day I’ve had.”

 “You don’t know how hard it is to stay sober.”

Valid perspectives. Self-control never tells us it will be easy and painless.

And this is where taking care of ourselves comes into play; it’s a necessary element to self-control.

The Stewardship Principle

Stewardship is all over the Twelve Steps.

You can call it accountability or taking responsibility.

But, it still resonates with the same conclusion: we need to do things differently. Our way is not working. Hence, the wakeup call to try something else.

And, that “something else” involves the loving self-care.

“This is my commandment, That ye love one another, as I have loved you.”

John 15:12

Before we eye roll at the cliché love answer, let’s take a look at exactly what that love could mean for us. Self-control and stewardship are rooted in the attribute.

If we revisit John 15:12, we are asked a question: do we love- or hate- ourselves?

"‘ ...love your neighbor as yourself. I am the LORD.’”

Leviticus 19:18

Yes, the potential for cliché is here; we are filled with self-loathing. That’s why we engage in our addiction.

But it is cliché for a reason; there is truth there.

Again, loving self-care and refusal to choose self-destruction are crucial to self-control.

“For no man ever yet hated his own flesh; but nourisheth and cherisheth it, even as the Lord the church. Because we are members of his body.”

Ephesians 5:29-30

We have to ask ourselves if what we are doing is best for our lives.

“All things are lawful for me, but all things are not expedient: all things are lawful for me, but all things edify not.”

1 Corinthians 10:23

For many of us, this is a revolutionary concept.

And self-control asks us to lovingly choose to embrace order instead of chaos, health instead of demanding craving, the reality of God’s love, extending to us instead of our self-focused hatred.

“We love him, because he first loved us.”

1 John 4:19

We are encouraged to see ourselves as possessing a valuable ripple effect, either positive or negative.

And, since we are made in the Most High’s Image (Genesis 1:26-27), this resemblance showcases a Divine, real and orderly purpose to all things...

“Let all things be done decently and in order.”

1 Corinthians 14:40

Our cooperation with self-control embodies good stewardship: of our lives, our health, other people and our relationship with the Most High God.

None of these things are trivial. All of it propels us to profitable foundation.

And, this last attribute underscores the effectiveness of all the other fruits as well.

Love takes self-control...

Joy takes self-control...

Peace takes self-control...

Longsuffering (Patience) takes self-control...

Gentleness takes self-control...

Goodness takes self-control...

Faith takes self-control...

Meekness and temperance take self-control...

Couldn’t it be argued this is the essence of 3 John 1:2?

“Beloved, I wish above all things that thou mayest prosper and be in health, even as thy soul prospereth.”

And it, perhaps, changes the Genesis scripture “be fruitful and multiply” (Genesis 1:28) a bit, doesn’t it?

What if, concerning that famous scripture, we make a shift in our thinking, from reproducing the species to reproducing the Divine fruit of the Spirit?

What if we were to ask for only this fruit, saying no to and silencing the other fruit’s impact in our lives?

What if?

The challenge lies within each of us. Do we choose life more abundant (John 10:10) or the box, labeled “other?”

It is one or the other; results depend on the box we check.

Copyright © 2019 by Sheryle Cruse